Not what anyone expected
by EmitRemmus
Summary: A Weasley and a Malfoy? Dear me, really? Well! I wish them luck. Merlin knows they'll need it.  These are some bits and pieces I'd like to share. Spread the love - R/R!
1. Chapter 1

What happens to a Malfoy with a kind heart, under the Sorting Hat?

What happens to a boy whose future is decided by his blood,

When he needs a friend and there she is,

A smiling, curly-haired girl,

Called Rose.

Rose Weasley.

'Can I sit here?'

Scorpius looks up from his book. There in the rattling carriage doorway is a girl.

He hasn't met many of them before, just his cousin Flavia, and the maids and the scullery girl. Flavia is a Nott, cold and silent and with flicky eyes and plaited black hair. The maids are kind and keen but older than Scorpius and always busy. The scullery girl might be a mute, for all the notice she takes of Scorpius.

This girl has curly brown hair, and a tentative smile, and a spot of dirt by her nose and a scuffed satchel.

Scorpius nods. Her smile spreads over her face. She dumps her satchel on the floor and sits down opposite Scorpius, tucking a curl behind her ear.

'Thanks,' she says breathlessly, 'Are you a first-year, too?'

Scorpius nods again, and realizes he should say something.

'Yes.' He looks back down at his book.

'What are you reading?' The girl wants to know.

'Keats.' He doesn't look up.

'Oh, I'm Rose, by the way,' She sticks her hand out over the table, 'Rose Weasley.'

'Scorpius Malfoy,' Scorpius clasps her hand.

Then their eyes meet as both of them process the name of the other. Rose blinks at him, her smile fading. Scorpius lets go of her hand.

'Oh.' She says, 'I thought you'd have, you know-' She gestures, and Scorpius thinks she is gesturing to the empty seats beside him, to the friends he doesn't have.

'No-one talks to me.' Scorpius says, and looks out of the window.

'No! I meant, um, I thought you'd be blond…'

He looks back at her. Rose is flushing slightly, gaze darting away. The spot of dirt by her nose is a freckle, he sees. The scuffed satchel makes more sense, now he knows she's a Weasley.

'Oh,' He says stiffly, 'Well, my mother is dark, and blond is a recessive gene.'

'Right.' Rose says.

A moment passes. And then, 'I like Keats. What's your favourite poem?'

'I can't choose,' Scorpius answers uncertainly, 'I like _La Belle Dame Sans Merci.'_

'Me too.' Rose smiles again. 'No-one else I know likes poetry, except my mum.'

'Hermione Granger.' Says Scorpius automatically, then feels stupid.

'Yes.' Rose lifts her chin a little.

'I didn't mean- I'm not…' He struggles, then says, 'I have her Chocolate Frog card.'

Rose rolls her eyes and sighs, but doesn't stare at him coldly like he'd feared.

'Ohhh, don't,' she groans, 'I _hate_ my parents being on Chocolate Frog cards…'

'Why? They're famous!'

'It's embarrassing, having famous parents. Everyone expects-'

'You to be brilliant too.' They finish together. And grin across the table, the half-metre feeling less like miles, and suddenly more like a friendship.


	2. Hard to understand

Scorpius is a hard person to understand, and no-one understands it better than Rose.

They're a funny pair, Rose muses, the tall, slim, dark-haired boy with his impenetrable shyness and grey puppy eyes, and her, smallish and curly-haired, clumsy and never able to keep her nervous smile off her face.

Scorpius is always hiding, behind Rose, behind a book, or behind his own hair, and Rose can see how others interpret this as sulkiness or unfriendliness. But really, she thinks, he needs just one friend, one person to see and talk to, and finds it difficult to resist the temptation to walk a step behind her, because he can't face the people who walk in the other direction, and might bump into him or look at him, or need him to be something other than what he is.

And in a way, Rose guesses that she needs him too. She needs someone to absorb her energy, with minimal rebound, and listen to her frequent rages without needing to give his opinion. She needs the security that Scorpius brings, always there, always a presence in her colourful little life. And she likes him.

'What do you see in him?' Merry Finnigan wrinkles her nose, 'He's so quiet and creepy. He never says a word to anyone.'

But that's not true, because he talks to Rose. She's the only one who understands why he doesn't speak, and he's the only one who understands her constant performance.


End file.
